Musing

[written and published from Calgary]

-1C/30F, cloudy, sun peeking through now; melt water along the lagoon edge making waves thanks to a stiff north wind; Gusta lunged for a lap dog the size of a loaf of bread – my left arm nearly ripped from its moorings; matted grass, debris and grime litter the landscape, traffic rushes by as though there is nothing to see

way up there, over here, under this, alongside that . . there is so much to see with our eyes wide open; but what do we see with them closed?

some days I am so content with my day to day life, some days I would like to scream like my day to day life was a straight-jacket from which I could not escape; I don’t have a plane ticket in hand so . . . I need to visualize

next weekend . . pondering where to go, what to see; Osoyoos beckons, so does prairie coolies; which makes me wonder how I will feel as seasons change, albeit more subtly, when I spend more time where palm trees meet an ocean . . . I need to visualize

last of the white stuff gone, these dreary late winter/early spring 'waiting time' days; waiting for warm rain to green us, waiting for shirt-sleeve weather, yearning for picnic-time; next weekend might be time for a country trip to see the results of calving season, the flow of streams under a big sky . . . I need to visualize

my life is full, my plate full, my belly full, my head full; my circle goes round, my sense of my environment incomplete, my desire to feel life pressing against me like a hot breeze in a stiff wind on Sugar Beach - searing, my desire to sleep peacefully knowing I will wake up every morning, to move on to the next . . .and the next

I've been experimenting a little - writing (thanks to 7th grade typing class) with my eyes closed (much editing required . . I'm rusty); I find this an interesting process . . real stream of consciousness stuff, trying to reach into my mind without distractions of surroundings, without influence of a view from my window or of pictures on walls, objects atop filing cabinets or carpet colour . . just enjoying the space around me, the sounds, the feel underfoot, the proximity of everything around me, no need to visualize, I am there

when I do this, my thoughts flow quickly . . they ricochet, as if my head was hollow, like little ping pong balls . . colliding with the walls of my memory cells; moments from childhood, moments of yesterday, of last month and back again; streaming . . steaming . . dreamy . . steamy, as if I can reach out and touch a day gone by, a day dreamed or one that I cherish; its up there on the big screen . . I am in a seat, munching popcorn, enjoying the view

I let my mind wander - almost like drifting off to sleep, I find it interesting in recent months that I have moved from worry, from wrestling with troubles to a mix of recalling thrilling moments, recalling risks taken, recalling exhilaration of so many things . . recollections of warmth, great company and adventuring, exploring . . curiously peeking around the corner more affected by adrenalin pumping than from fear of fright

a friend said ‘hey lets have dinner’ . . maybe . . but maybe not tonight; my mood needs examining today more than it needs entertainment; I need solitude today, I need my thoughts to keep me company, my thoughts and Gusta and some fresh halibut in the fridge . . that ought to do it

Mark Kolke
225,956
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